


Whatever...Squib!

by Miklanj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Major Original Character(s), Male Homosexuality, Multi, Original Character-centric, Quidditch, Rare Golden Trio, Stripping a wizard of their magic is a sentence for Death Eaters, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 21:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12944607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miklanj/pseuds/Miklanj
Summary: He's a squib. All his life he thought he would have to live as a muggle. But now he's got magic, and he's wicked good at it. He can prove his parents he is worth being loved and how wrong they were to favor his brother. But a new threat arise, the squibber, a magic stealer. Another not so quiet year at Hogwarts.





	Whatever...Squib!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, I do not own Harry Potter, therefore, I'm not J.K Rowling
> 
> Note : Hello everyone ! I'm here with my first ever english fanfiction. I'm not english-born so go easy on me. Anyone who'd want to beta-read the next chapter is welcome. I wanted also to say that there will be very few apparitions of the Golden Trio. Their kids will be more present as the action mostly take place in Hogwarts. It still remains an Original Characters centred fiction. If you don't like that I'm sorry but this something that I had on my mind in a long time.
> 
> To be clear, I'm more using the universe than the charaters of Harry Potter.
> 
> Besides Hogwarts will always be Hogwarts.
> 
> Special warning also : this fiction will feature many representations of the LGBTQ+ community, so if you don't like that:
> 
> First, you're a jerk;
> 
> Second, you might as well leave.

Lazarus Tournacoin thought magic was really amazing as he waved his wand and all his clothes flew across the room to fold themselves into his luggage. His rooster-like clock was still cock-a-doodle-doo-ing from the nightstand and with a quick movement of the wrist, he had it back to sleep. Once his trunk was packed, he took a quick glance at the room. It was neatly ordered. It had taken a while even with the use of magic, but he was ready to go. The most difficult was surely to leave his books behind. He had taken a few but most were still on their shelves, mostly the muggle ones. It was one of Lazarus greatest passion, the muggle literature. They could bring so much magic into the pages of their stories than their wizard companions who were surrounded by it every day. But the boy's affection for muggle culture wasn't reasonless. Most of his life, he had thought he will have to live like one of them. When he was a kid, a mediwizard announced his mother, Jidalza, that his magical core was so atrophied that he would never be able to produce even if only sparkles from the tip of a wand. It was a difficult time for both his parents but even more for him growing up in the wizarding world, feeling like he didn't belong. He was the last heir of the long line of the Tournacoin family and he was a squib. That's how his brother Thiméas was born, to continue the family lineage, what Lazarus was not incapable of, but what his parents didn't want to vest their hopes on. The percentage of chances for him to have a magical child was as high as the chances for Prius Tacklenark of being reelected as Minister of Magic.

When Thiméas was born, everything changed. His mother smiled again and his father came home more often, to check on his champion. Sigmund Tournacoin was a very busy man, he was in charge of the International Magical Cooperation and for a while, he thought of sending his only child away to spare himself the shame if people came to know that the boy had no magic. But no-one never discovered it. Lazarus was a discrete young boy, without any craving for attention, unlike his brother. Their upbringing was radically different even though they were part of the same family. Everything Thiméas did was praised as if it was out of the ordinary for a wizard to perform magic. He was the pride of his parents who would often take him along to galas and wizarding events. Lazarus knew for a fact that many of his father's colleagues and even foreign representatives had taken a liking to the young boy, always asking about how he was doing. The ex-squib couldn't even blame his brother for his arrogance, he had been raised into it. For a long time, Lazarus had been content with being a part of the family, even if that meant to stay in the shadows. But now he was done with it. He didn't have any magic, so what? Was magic an identity, was it all that defined a wizard? What about who he was as a person, did that not count for something?  
Now he was mad. Not just at the moment but for some time now. It was well-hidden under the surface, this rage running through his veins. He knew there was nothing he could do as a muggle to bring his parents to even acknowledge him. But as a wizard, oh as a wizard, he could show them what he could do. How wrong they were to favor his brother over him. He will do great things and they would only be able to stand by and watch. And regret.

Lazarus shook himself out of his thoughts and locked his trunk with a jerk of his wand. He was proud of how he had been able to tame magic. Even though he believed for a long time that his life was gonna be a muggle one, it never deterred him from reading magical contents. When he first had been able to use magic, it had been difficult and erratic, but with practice, it quickly became a part of him. Every information about how to perform magic, no matter how useless to him it was at the time, was neatly stored in his brain and was now allowing him to be quite ahead of most wizards his age. His mother and father's school books and some other more advanced books from Flourish&Blotts were what made his education.  
When he first discovered Diagon Alley, he was in awe. He had imagined it for a long time but never had he thought it would be so magical. It added to his anger, having been deprived of this magic all his life, even if only the sight of it. He received all his book from Flourish&Blotts by owl post and he had never been allowed to go and fetch them himself. The wizarding world had been off limits for him, and the only trips his parents had consented to, were the ones in the muggle world. Of course, they would never escort him, after all, it never was their world, but it never bothered Lazarus who enjoyed his freedom. He had made some friends at the muggle library with whom he would meet each time he would be allowed one of those trips. They were all bookworms, each at a certain degree, except for Thomas who would stay around for the obliviously gorgeous Lissa. Lazarus often thought it was a shame that Thomas never really noticed the girl for her smarts. She was, after all, the sharpest tool in the shed. He really hoped they would eventually come around, all these blushing and awkward smiling were becoming pathetic. He sighed thinking about his friends, it would be a long year, not being able to see them. But he was sure friendships were to be found at Hogwarts too.  
A sound distracted him from his thoughts. It must have been Thiméas who's bedroom was upstairs. He was going to Hogwarts too and from what Lazarus could hear, he was only realizing that his trunk should be packed by now, as they were only minutes away from leaving.  
Lazarus was satisfied not to be forced to start from scratch, his magic assessment was allowing him to attend Hogwarts as a third year as he should have if it wasn't for his little problem. That was the name he had found for it. Nothing more than a little bump in the road. Thiméas was going to attend his first year so both of them would have to go through the Sorting and it was quite the comforting thought for him.  
He was going to get downstairs with his luggage to wait for the departure when a loud bang startled him, making the walls shake and some of the ceiling stuccoes fall on his shoulder and hair. He cast a cleaning spell before going upstairs where the sound had come from.  
He quickly got to his brother's room to find the latter on the floor surrounded by a half-blown room.

"THIMÉAS!" he screamed in disbelief at the state of the room "What the hell did you do?"

The shelves were no longer on the wall or only hanging by a screw, books and clothes were scattered all over the floor and worst of all, it seems that a fire had started in Thiméas's trunk.

The young boy had the nerve to look sheepish before answering. "Well, I was late and I wanted to use magic to pack my things in my trunk."

"You could just have asked mum to do it! Besides you haven't learn any spells yet, how could you think it was a good idea?"

"I don't need spells," Thiméas said "Mum and Dad never use them, even you don't use them! And I'll let you know that you haven't learnt any magic either!"

"It's not because we don't say the spells that we don't use them. They're called nonverbal spells for a reason! You still have to think them though. And I learnt magic from books while you haven't opened any of yours yet."

Lazarus could see that his brother had nothing to respond and took a deep breath to stay calm when his brother spoke again.  
"Whatever… squib," Thiméas sneered.

Lazarus knew this line would come up at a point or another in the conversation. It was Thiméas's favorite. And while it may have hurt a couple years back, it was just becoming pathetic now. The young boy was more stupid than Lazarus initially thought if he believed that he could keep this up with him having magic now. And this ad hominem arguments were only proving that the boy simply didn't have a brain.

"Well, the squib can at least cast a spell without burning the house down."

The teenager smirked as he made his brother a show of his talents. Within seconds, the fire in Thiméas's trunk had died, the shelves were back on the wall and the books and clothes were packed in the trunk after being fixed."

Lazarus was pleased with how displeased his brother looked. He gave him a once-over and chuckled when he saw what the younger boy was wearing.

"Really Thim? A Gryffindor uniform? That's a lot of faith you have in your Sorting."

"It's only a matter of time until I'm a Gryffindor. After all, I'm brave and determined," he answered, chest puffed.

Lazarus had to bite his tongue to keep the burning answer from escaping his lips

"Well we'll see about that little brother," he answered instead "now come on we're gonna be late."

This seemed to wake his brother who was back on his feet in less than a second.

"Twinkle!" he called.

As soon as the name left his lips the house elf had appeared in a very faint pop.

"Master Thiméas called Twinkle, sir?"

"Get my things downstairs would you?" he ordered with contempt in his voice.

"Twinkle will do just that sir! Would Master Lazarus also like Twinkle to get his trunk downstairs, sir?"

"No Twinkle, I'll handle it, thank you though," he replied kindly.

The house elf nodded before disappearing with Thiméas trunk.

"Why you treat these creatures with respect is beyond me, brother," the kid said.

"Why I treat you with respect is what is beyond me, little brother," Lazarus simply answered before leaving the room.

He quickly went into his room to retrieve his trunk before heading downstairs to meet his mom who was waiting for them at the door.

"Where the hell have you been? I have been calling for you for ages!" she said clearly upset. "And what was this fuss all about?"

"No you weren't," he answered knowing his mother was the queen of exaggeration. "And the fuss, as you call it, was Thiméas trying to use magic to pack his trunk and destroying half his room in the process."

She looked at him disapprovingly for ratting his little brother and sighed. Lazarus wondered why the disapproval. It was not as if her golden boy was going to be punished.

"THIMÉAS! SWEETY COME ON YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE ON YOUR FIRST DAY!" she shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

It was a matter of second until Thiméas was downstairs, smiling innocently, still in his Gryffindor robes.

"I'm going to Hogwarts," he peeped clearly excited.

"Yes, you are sweetheart!"

Lazarus rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. It broke the moment before it even started as the ex-squib hoped it would.

"Well, each of you grabs my arm, we're going to apparate to the station."

Lazarus did as instructed and suddenly, he felt like he was forced into a very tight rubber tube. The feeling didn't last long and finally, he could breathe when they apparated in front the Hogwarts Express. He tried not to be overwhelmed with nausea but it was a hard thing to do.  
He looked around him and was not surprised at the not so busy train station, most students had already boarded.

He looked at his mother who was hugging his brother, whispering bits of advice and kind words into his hear and felt his heart sank.

"Come on time to go now sweetheart," she said, kissing her youngest son on the forehead one last time, "and write me at least once a week okay? Oh, and your father wanted me to tell you how pride he is of you and apologized for not being able to accompany you to the station."

The eleven-year-old boy nodded and after a last tight hug ran to get on the train. Lazarus took his luggage and, without a word, headed toward the train as well.

"Lazarus!" his mother called from behind.

He tried not to let his heart swell with joy at the thought of his mother finally acknowledging him.

"Not a word to anybody about you-know-what."

And that was the last straw. Lazarus felt a single tear rolling down his cheek. Who could blame him, it was only so much a thirteen-year-old could take. After wiping away the tear, he took a deep breath and got on the train. Next stop, Hogwarts, where he would be able to show them how wrong they all were.

**Author's Note:**

> Your opinion matters to me, I'd like to hear it.  
> I've not publishing schedule set yet, I'll try to post the next chapter soon if you're interested.


End file.
